


The Angel Experiment

by destiheller



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angel Castiel, Angels are Dicks, Awkward Conversations, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Comedy, Eventual Fluff, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Honorary Angel Castiel, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Rating May Change, Teacher Dean, Witches, a lot of em, but not like full-blown angst, dean really cares about cas, heavier than light angst, sort of, turning souls into grace, witches who text
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destiheller/pseuds/destiheller
Summary: Thirty participants. Higher-ups in heaven decide to test the results of transforming a human soul into grace, giving witches on Earth the means and permission to do so. It's only an experiment, so what harm could come of it?
Castiel Novak, AKA The World's Most Lethargic Librarian, is startled when he receives a sudden, extreme surge of energy one day. The symptoms that follow are less than expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEY Y'ALL so I started writing this in March and I think I'm actually going to try to finish it? It's a bit of a strange plot tbh, and I'm not gonna lie: I have no outline, and have no idea where I'm going with this. So we'll see! I'll try not to let it crumble and fall apart ok. Anyway updates may be sporadic because school has been hectic, but I will definitely try to continue with it! 
> 
> *I am posting the first five chapters in one go, so if there are currently under five chapters, just gimme a sec*

It started on a Thursday, just past noon.

Castiel’s energy levels were startlingly high that day, and his co-workers were picking up on the phenomenon. He could tell. The way Charlie jabbed him in the side, asking why he was suddenly so ‘un-zombielike.’ The way his boss, Naomi, offhandedly asked if he was sleeping better. There was also Becky, who took it upon herself to pull him aside and confirm that he wasn’t ‘on anything.’ It was beginning to frustrate him -- then again, he understood. He was Castiel, world’s sleepiest librarian. He wasn’t bad at what he did. Although the world seemed to be in a perpetual haze, he got his job done well. Only with excess yawning and a frustrating habit of zoning out for extended periods of time. Thank god he was a pro at autopilot.

Despite his love for his work, Castiel had never been energetic. If he was going to be honest with himself, he was moderately disturbed with the sudden change in his body’s routine. Still, when push came to shove, it was nice. Convenient. It was pleasant to feel like a fully-functioning human adult.

That day, Castiel decided to forgo his packed lunch, and go the extra mile by walking to the mall on his lunch break. Considering it was across the street from the library, it was a feasible task to make it in and out quickly. As he waited in line at Subway, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, fumbling a bit, and smiled. A text from his roommate. It wasn’t a long message. Dean’s last class had apparently been a nightmare, so Castiel responded with a simple, _that’s what you get for agreeing to teach sixth graders_.

Dean graciously told Castiel to shut up in response.

Chuckling to himself, Castiel slipped the phone back into his pocket. He ordered his sandwich a few minutes later, before heading back to the library staff room. There he found Charlie sitting at a table, flipping through what looked like a comic book. Castiel smiled. It was typical of her to sacrifice food in order to make the most of her break time.

“Hello, Charlie,” Castiel said, heading toward a nearby chair.

Charlie was quick to look up from the pages of her comic. “Oh, hey, Cas,” she said. “I thought you were on break too, but I didn’t see you around.”

Castiel smiled as he sat down. “I went across the street to get food, for once. It’s not like I packed much for lunch, anyway. Not too much is going to waste.”

“Subway,” Charlie observed as Castiel sat his plastic bag onto the table. “You could have gotten like, McDonald’s or something and you go for Subway. Poor choice, bro.”

“Well, if you’re implying what I ordered is healthy, you’re wrong.”

Charlie shrugged, turning back down to her reading material as she spoke. “So how’s your day been so far?”

Castiel returned the shrug. “Okay, I suppose. I’m glad it hasn’t been too hectic today.”

“Well,” Charlie said. “What about this whole new persona you’ve got going on today? Dude, I’m not kidding when I say that the fully-awake look suits you.”

Castiel, who had been preparing to take a bite of his lunch, paused. “I don’t know what’s going on, honestly. I doubt it will last.”

He bit into the sandwich.

“Yeah, well -- Cas, you okay?”

Castiel’s features had contorted into a slight grimace. He quickly swallowed. “That tasted strange,” he commented.

Charlie cocked a brow. “What’d you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel said. He glanced down at his sandwich. “It tasted… unpleasant. Every bit seems off, which doesn’t make much sense.”

“Here, let me try some. I’ll confirm or dispute,” Charlie said.

Castiel tore a small piece off of the end of the sandwich, passing it to his co-worker. She took a bite.

“Holy crap,” Charlie muttered.

“Do you taste it?”

Charlie nodded. “Well, I mean, I taste mayonnaise. Mayonnaise is inherently disgusting and predict it tainted the rest of your meal.”

Castiel huffed. “No, that’s not it. It just didn’t have much of a taste, per se. It left a sort of feeling in my mouth and… I can’t believe I’m dramatizing a sandwich like this. But it was strange. Did you really not taste it?”

Charlie shook her head. “Nope. Maybe you’re getting sick?” she suggested.

Castiel hesitated. “Maybe.”

The rest of the workday seemed to flash by, due in part to Castiel’s increased energy. Despite chucking his lunch, he didn’t even have the inhibitor of hunger. He didn’t dwell on that too much.

As Castiel was preparing to head home, Charlie approached him.

“Hey, Cas,” she said. “Are you and Dean doing anything on Saturday?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Charlie’s eyes seemed to light up. “I was thinking you could go out with Dorothy and I. Y’know, like a double date thing.”

“Dean and I aren’t dating, though,” Castiel said, frowning.

Charlie only sighed.

“I should probably head home,” Castiel said in an attempt to break the growing tension. “Thank you for the offer, though.”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie said. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hold you up. See ya, Cas.”

Castiel nodded, returning to a smile. “You too, Charlie.”

Despite the drive home being short, Castiel’s found the time to let his mind run wild. Not that he wanted it to. He didn’t seem to have much say in the matter, which frankly, seemed incredibly unfair.

That’s precisely when an explosion went off in Castiel’s head.

Castiel began to feel overcharged. The excess energy was overwhelming him. His mind was moving too fast to even process what was happening and--

He was home. Thank god.

Hopping out of his car, Castiel hoped that his mind would cool down if he weren’t left to his own devices. Maybe he needed to be performing some sort of task. Either way, he would find a means of relaxing. This energy was just a strange, solitary incident. It had never happened before and it would never happen again.

At least, he could hope.

Unlocking the door to his and Dean’s two-bedroom apartment, Castiel let out a heavy breath. He was already beginning to feel a sense of relief wash over him. Granted, the situation in his head was still reasonably chaotic, but the worst of it seemed to be over.

“Cas? You home?”

Castiel could hear the voice coming from the kitchen as he hung up his coat. “Yes,” he called back, before heading toward Dean.

Upon arriving at the compact shared kitchen, Castiel saw his roommate rummaging through the fridge.

“I was just about to get started on dinner. Anything you want? I could make burgers,” Dean said, looking over his shoulder toward Castiel.

Castiel smiled, taking in the domesticity of the scene. So what if he was harboring a crush on his friend? He knew well enough not to act on it. “Yes,” he responded. “Burgers should be good. I haven’t eaten all day.”

This time, Dean turned his entire body to gaze at Castiel. “Dude.”

Castiel shuffled his feet. “What?”

“You seriously haven’t eaten all day? I’m making extra burgers,” Dean says, returning to his search for ingredients.

“I wasn’t hungry this morning,” Castiel said, speaking slowly. “And lunch was unusual.”

“Unusual how?” Dean asked, pulling a few food items from the fridge.

Castiel shrugged. “My lunch didn’t taste right.” He opted not to go into detail.

Dean nodded. He headed over to the counter. “And I’m guessin’ you’re starving?” he asked.

Taking a moment to stop and focus, Castiel observed that no, he wasn’t hungry. Not in the slightest. “Not really,” he mumbled. He sat down at the small table they’d set up.

“You’re kidding.”

As Dean continued to prepare dinner, a relatively repetitive conversion was enacted. Castiel insisted he was fine, while Dean claimed that he had to be ‘sick or something.’

Castiel eventually gave up on the debate.

“And dinner is served,” Dean said soon thereafter, sliding a burger in front of Castiel. The latter smiled appreciatively. The storm inside his head had relaxed substantially since he’d begun talking to Dean. Although, he doubted that that was in any way connected to his failing taste buds. He’d never experienced so much anxiety before when faced with one of Dean’s burgers. Or any burger, really.

Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe Charlie had been messing with him, and it had been the sandwich all along.

“You gonna eat there, buddy?”

Castiel’s gaze snapped upward, catching sight of Dean sitting across from himself. “Yes,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll eat now.”

All the same, Castiel hesitated as he reached for his food. Until, of course, he realized that he was creating drama out of nothing. So his sandwich from earlier had probably been the most obscure meal he’d ever tasted. So what? It was almost as if his body _wanted_ him to be worried, or something. As if it knew that this was not going to turn out well.

Castiel disregarded his gut instinct and reached for the burger. He could feel Dean watching him. Was he really acting so strangely that he needed close observation?

After huffing a sigh, Castiel proceeded to take a bite of the burger.

To his dismay, the taste was nearly identical to the sandwich from earlier. Still, he chewed and swallowed as he normally would.

“Taste fine?” Dean asked, still gazing at Castiel. His own burger was untouched.

Castiel let out another sigh. “No.”

Dean furrowed his brows. “Dude, my burgers are amazing. Maybe you really are sick.”

“Maybe,” Castiel said. “It’s so strange, though. It doesn’t taste like food. It just tastes like… molecules.”

Dean’s expression was nearly blank. “Molecules? How does it taste like molecules?”

Castiel quickly shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t know why I said that. It was the first thing to come to mind.”

“Well, okay then,” Dean said, shrugging. “I don’t know much about medicine, but I’m pretty sure a fucked up sense of taste is a symptom of something.”

Castiel nodded. “Probably. Maybe I should go bed early. Hopefully I’ll be able to sleep it off,” he said.

Dean took a bite of his own burger, nodding. “Well, if you aren’t, go see a doctor. I dunno… it’s probably just a cold, but no point in takin’ a risk.”

“You’re right,” Castiel said. “That would probably be best.”

“‘Course it is. I’m always right.”

“Dean, I’m pretty sure I could name twenty times you weren’t right off the top of my head.”

“Shut up.”


	2. Chapter 2

As planned, Castiel went to bed early. That much was easy. Falling asleep, on the other hand, was an entirely different battle.

He lay awake for an hour, then two, then three. Castiel groaned, reaching for his phone. It was just past midnight, and Castiel felt the frustration creep up. He wasn’t tired. In all honestly, he felt more awake than he typically did in the daytime.

Letting out a defeated sigh, Castiel decided that closing his eyes wasn’t enough to will his body into sleep. Maybe they had some melatonin tablets.

Evidently, he found some. They didn’t help.

Morning crept up on Castiel before he knew it. He slid out of bed around six in the morning, approximately the time Dean would be leaving for work.

“Cas? Why are you awake?” He found Dean in the living area of their apartment, shuffling through papers on the coffee table. “Thought you didn’t have to be up for another hour or so.”

Castiel pursed his lips. “I don’t,” he said. “But I couldn’t sleep.”

Dean chuckled. “You, can’t sleep? Well that’s somethin’ for the history books.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Castiel muttered, making his way to sit beside Dean on the sofa. “I just don’t feel tired. It’s irritating.”

“Did you take--”

“Melatonin? Yes.”

Dean nodded. “Well, that’s about the extent of my medical advice. Maybe you should call in sick to work. Y’know, can’t eat, can’t sleep. Sounds pretty under the weather to me.”

Castiel shook his head. “No. I feel fine, despite everything. I think I’ll read for a bit.”

“To each his own,” Dean said with a shrug. “For the record, though, I’m getting worried about you. So if this keeps up, I’m probably gonna be a bit more insistent and annoying, okay?”

Castiel grinned, looking down for a moment. “Thank you for your concern, Dean. But I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Dean left six minutes later, not before flashing Castiel a final concerned glare. The recipient managed a weak smile in return.

Castiel did end up heading into work that day, although the energy he harbored yesterday was overshadowed by frustration.

He felt a tap on his shoulder while in the process of archiving.

“What’s up with you today?”

Turning to look over his shoulder, Castiel frowned. Charlie was standing behind him, her stare offering a mix of concern and annoyance.

He turned around. It’s not like he technically still had work to do, anyway. “What do you mean?”

Charlie rolled her eyes, arms crossed now. “You know what I mean, Cas. Yesterday you were all sunshine and energy, but today… it’s like you’re _trying_ to be a huge grump or something.”

“I’m not,” Castiel replied. Charlie quirked a brow, and he sighed. “Trying, I mean. I’m just frustrated, and I apologize if it’s showing. It could also be the lack of sleep.”

Charlie’s features softened, albeit marginally. “You’ve had trouble sleeping?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. Although, in all honesty, I can’t put much blame on that alone.”

“What’d you mean?”

He hesitated. “I don’t feel tired, exactly. I actually feel more awake than I think I ever have. So, I suppose it’s my own frustration that’s the problem. I’d like to sleep, but I can’t,” Castiel said.

“Some of that makes zero sense, y’know,” Charlie said. Finally, she smiled. “Listen. Not to get too intense, but I had some pretty shitty insomnia after my parents died. So I feel for you. Even if I don’t understand what you’re going through specifically, I’m here if you need me. Got it?”

Castiel managed a grin, the first one since he’d stepped foot in the library that morning. “Thank you, Charlie. I should probably get back to work.”

Charlie bit her lip. “Yeah, I probably should too. Don’t want Naomi on my ass.”

In a snap, the pair was back to work. Although, Castiel couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful. He knew he needed to talk to someone, and he feared that his problems would only give Dean anxiety. Dean cared heavily for him, and Castiel knew that.

By the time Castiel arrived home that evening, he hadn’t eaten in two days. Yet, for whatever reason, he didn’t want his roommate shoving food in his face. The prospect seemed annoying, if anything. He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want to eat. It was as simple as that.

Castiel hated lying to Dean, but there wasn’t much else he could do.

Dean was in their living space when Castiel stepped into the apartment. He sat on the couch, papers splayed on the table in front of him, similar to how he’d been that morning. He turned to look at Castiel, smiling.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said. “I was just finishing up with some grading, but I can make dinner if you want. Sound good?”

Castiel frowned.

Dean’s expression fell. “Dude, don’t tell me you’re still not eating.”

Quickly, Castiel shook his head. “No, I just had a big lunch. I’m not very hungry, in all honesty.”

“Awesome, so at least we know you’re not on the road to starving to death.”

Despite the guilt that was welling up in Castiel’s gut, he grinned. “Thankfully,” he said.

By a stroke of luck, Castiel managed to evade dinner without evoking any visible suspicions from Dean.

The next few days were flooded by anxiety, however. Although he’d compromised and continued eating when he was expected to, ignoring the awkward sensation in his mouth, Castiel was quickly beginning to worry about what was happening to his health. Despite the fact that he felt pristine, he knew that a human couldn’t survive particularly long without sleep.

Which is exactly why, a week into the debacle, Castiel was beginning to panic.

He tried to sleep, he really did. All the same, he was beginning to surrender to his apparent fate as a chronic insomniac. A chronic insomniac with the energy of a lightning bolt.

Castiel was also confused, as if that word even came close to describe what he was experiencing. He was living each day with a mask. It wasn’t normal. It didn’t make any sense -- and, most importantly, he couldn’t let anyone know it was happening.

Especially Dean.

Lying to his best friend was putting a strain on Castiel. He could feel the guilt surge through every bone in his body each time he told Dean he was sleeping well. Every time he complimented Dean’s cooking, or even the take-out they’d ordered. He wanted to tell his roommate the truth.

So, two days later, he did. He would probably describe the moment as a sort of emotional breakdown.

Dean had been in his room at the time. Castiel knocked on the door. “Dean? Are you awake?” It was Saturday, just shy of noon. Dean had a habit of sleeping in late on the weekend, although Castiel couldn’t bother feeling bad about waking the other man up.

He knocked again. “Dean?”

A moment passed before the door creaked open. Dean appeared on the other side, disheveled and staring at Castiel through half-lidded eyes. “What?” he muttered.

Castiel paused, sighed, then continued. “I have some things I should probably tell you.”

Dean yawned, scratching the back of his neck. “Can it wait until I at least get some coffee, man?”

“No,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “I should have told you everything a few days ago, at least. You need to know.”

Suddenly, Dean went from half-asleep to fully alert. “What are you talking about, Cas?” he asked.

Castiel gestured for Dean to follow him, and the man did. Leading him down the short hallway and into the living room, Castiel was the first to sit down. His roommate hesitated, then sat beside him a moment later.

“Okay, so what’s up? Listen, if I pissed you off somehow, I’m--”

“I’ve been lying to you,” Castiel said in an undertone.

There was a beat of silence.

Dean cocked a brow when Castiel failed to continue. “About what?”

Castiel sighed. “Promise not to physically attack me.”

“Jesus, Cas, of course I won’t. Doesn’t mean I won’t get mad, but I--”

“I haven’t slept in over a week,” Castiel blurted. It felt good to finally get the truth out. That feeling lasted for a pleasant three seconds.

Dean’s eyes were wide. “As in, your sleep has been shitty, or you literally haven’t slept in over a week?”

“Literally,” Castiel muttered, struggling to maintain eye contact with his friend.

“You’re fucking kidding me. And I’m guessin’ you’re gonna tell me you haven’t seen a doctor?” Dean was trying his best not to yell, and Castiel could tell.

Castiel hung his head. “No, I haven’t seen a doctor.”

“Damn it, Cas! Do you have any idea, any idea _at all_ , how dangerous that is? Hell, I’m surprised you’re still alive as it is! How many days has it been?” Castiel had only heard Dean use this tone of voice with him on a few select occasions. Although he knew it came from a place of worry, the anger was evidently contagious.

“Nine,” Castiel responded, his own voice increasing in volume. He swallowed. As much time as he had spent deluding himself into the idea that there wouldn’t be a fight, Castiel had known this would happen. Subconsciously, at the very least.

Dean massaged the bridge of his nose. “Give me one good reason not to call a goddamn ambulance right now,” he said.

Castiel shot up from his seat on the sofa. “Because I feel fine, Dean! No, actually, I feel fantastic. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good. I don’t know why, and I know that it makes virtually no sense, but I don’t know if I even need sleep anymore.”

“Bullshit,” Dean said, rising to his feet. “You’re fucking right, Cas. It does make virtually no sense! None at all. Somethin’ has to be wrong with you. Maybe some rare genetic disorder that will baffle scientists for decades to come, I don’t know. You need to get help, man!”

“No, I don’t! I don’t. I really don’t. I don’t know what it is, but _something_ is telling me that I’m fine. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s a gut feeling, maybe. But it feels like more than that. I’m fine. Absolutely fine,” Castiel said. It wasn’t until after he’d finished speaking that he was able to take in what he himself had said. What the hell was that supposed to even mean?

Castiel decided to run with it.

Before Dean could speak, he continued. “I’m fine. If whatever’s telling me I’m fine is this _loud_ , then I’m fine.”

Dean shook his head, smirking. “Great. So now you’re either delusional, or you’re hallucinating. Fucking fantastic.”

“I’m not hallucinating,” Castiel hissed. “It’s not a voice or an image. It’s a _feeling_. I know I’m fine.”

Fine, fine, fine. Why couldn’t he stop saying _fine_?

“Delusional, then,” Dean supplied. “You need to -- where the hell are you going?”

Castiel had shoved past Dean, and was making his way toward the hallway. He couldn’t take this anymore. This wasn’t what he had wanted to happen, as much as he knew he should have anticipated it.

_That’s it, I’m calling an ambulance. He is fucking unbearable sometimes._

At the sound of Dean’s voice, Castiel swept back around. “Please, don’t. I don’t need an ambulance. And I’m actually quite bearable if you’d just let me be,” he said. If anything, this argument was exhausting him. It showed. Despite that much, Castiel was still capable of sounding vaguely threatening. It was a survival skill he’d developed whilst growing up with a twin brother.

Dean, however, stood in place. His mouth hung open for a split second before he spoke. “What?”

Castiel frowned. “What?”

“Nevermind. Coincidence,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, confusion heightening.

Dean shrugged. “Uh, you said that right after I thought up some shit about calling an ambulance and you being unbearable. Already forgot if that was the word I even used, though. Coincidence. Never mind. I’m losing it.”

“You are,” Castiel agreed. “You said that aloud, Dean.”

“What? Dude, I didn’t. I definitely didn’t.”

“You definitely did.”

“Cas--”

“Dean, stop it. And don’t call an ambulance, please. If I start to feel like I need one, I’ll call myself. Okay? Just forget about this conversation for the time being. Please.”

Opting not to allow Dean an opportunity to respond, Castiel rushed down the hallway and into his bedroom. He stood still, just inside the room, waiting to see if Dean would come knocking at the door.

He didn’t, thankfully.

Castiel remained in his room for the rest of the day and throughout the night. He’d never been so grateful for Netflix.


	3. Chapter 3

“Dean? Are you awake?”

How Castiel found himself pounding on his roommate’s door early Sunday morning, he didn’t entirely know. He’d spent the night stewing in a mixture of guilt and confusion, and apparently, he was willing to override his stubborn nature and apologize. Would that help? He didn’t know. All Castiel was sure of was that the situation wasn’t going to remedy itself.

Unlike the morning prior, however, the door flew open almost immediately. Similar to the morning prior, Dean looked like he’d rolled straight out of bed. Only, his eyes were noticeably bloodshot.

Castiel frowned. “Did you sleep last night?”

Dean kept a straight face. “Did you?”

Looking down, Castiel sighed. “No,” he said.

“Listen, Cas,” Dean said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t treat you like a kid, okay? I know that now. You can take care of yourself. Doesn’t mean I’m not worried about you, but if you say you’re doin’ fine… I believe you.”

Castiel could only stand in silence. If anything, an apology on Dean’s end wasn’t what he had been expecting. Especially considering, in all honesty, Dean had probably been in the right.

“Cas? You gonna say anything?”

Snapping out of his trance, Castiel nodded. “Yes. Sorry. I actually came here to apologize, as well. To begin, I shouldn’t have lied to you. You’re my friend, and you deserve to know the truth. In my defense, you’re not exactly _entitled_ to know everything, but that became irrelevant after I decided to explain the situation to you in the first place. I shouldn’t have hoped that you would just take it in stride. I see now that that was highly unrealistic. And I’m sorry.”

A small smile quirked at the corner of Dean’s mouth. “So let’s agree on this. We’re both walking disasters in one way or another, and we both fucked up. Truce?”

Castiel chuckled. He didn’t deserve a friend like Dean. “Truce,” he said.

“Awesome. Hey, I was thinkin’ that after I get some shut-eye we could go into town. Y’know, make the most of our weekend, considering we both spent most of yesterday holed up in our rooms. Sound like a plan?” Dean asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “That sounds like a plan, absolutely. It’s probably best that I get out.”

Dean nodded. “Totally. So, you hold tight while I get happily reacquainted with some memory foam. Because unlike you, I’m human.” He was smiling faintly -- distantly.

Castiel quickly decided to disregard the uncomfortable tightening in his chest at his friend’s words. “Of course. Get some rest. As much as you need.”

“Wish I could tell you the same, but I don’t think it would be effective,” Dean said. His eyes were half-lidded at that point.

Castiel knew it would be best not to hold him up any further. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean snorted.

After retreating to his own room, Castiel found himself pacing. He wasn’t particularly anxious. If anything, he was relieved. Still, his mind was incredibly active and sitting still didn’t seem like a realistic prospect. He thought about what might lie in his near future. He thought about his long term fate. He thought about his relationship with Dean.

He thought a lot about Dean.

Was Dean genuinely able to accept Castiel’s situation, just like that? The contrast against the day before was enormous. It was unusual, if not downright bizarre. Then again, this was Dean Winchester. Predictability had never been his strong suit. Having known the man for five years, Castiel knew that much.

Netflix was beginning to sound more and more like a pleasant idea. Castiel huffed, hoping he could sit still long enough to even find a show to binge watch. As he was pulling his laptop from his nightstand, his plans changed in an instant.

A chattering. Castiel froze. He heard chattering. He couldn’t decipher a single word, but there was definitely a voice. Voices? He turned to peer around the room. Nothing. No one.

This couldn’t be good.

Still, Castiel made a valiant attempt to push through the noise that was, by the looks of it, in his head. It was far from the most unusual phenomenon he’d experienced in the past week. He was crawling into bed when the chatter grew in volume. More voices, beginning to sound like a stream of hissing, were added to the mix.

He groaned, out of sheer frustration more than anything.

Five minutes passed and Castiel found his face shoved in a pillow.

He hadn’t even gotten around to opening Netflix, and the jabbering had picked up substantially. Voices, so many voices. Too many voices. Speaking over one another. Clouding his head. On, and on, and on, and--

In the span of about four seconds, the chatter dissolved into silence. Castiel began to lift his head, cautiously. He shot a quick look back around his bedroom. Still empty. He was still alone.

Normally, Castiel would have panicked. Normally, he would have sprinted to the nearest phone to call his doctor. Considering the general absurdity of the past ten or so days, however, that didn’t seem necessary.

Instead, he watched _House of Cards_.

***

Even downtown wasn’t particularly bustling on a Sunday evening. By six o'clock, Castiel and Dean found themselves nestled in a booth at their favourite diner, Benny’s. It was on the far end of town, not necessarily the most pristine area, but it was the best food around. To top it off, Dean was good friends with the owner. A discount of some degree was usually in their future. Sometimes free milkshakes.

Unfortunately, there was the small setback of Castiel’s tastebuds. He decided not to bring up the subject. It was for the best. Less tension between the two of them, and anyway, Castiel could eat fairly convincingly. Just keep the odd faces to a minimum.

Even if his food tasted like molecules. He still didn’t know what that meant, but he stood by the statement.

Dean didn’t bring up the matter, either. Was it because it’d slipped his mind, or because he was trying to avoid another argument over the state of Castiel’s health? Castiel wasn’t entirely sure. He didn’t dwell on it.

Halfway through meal, Benny himself popped up beside their table. “Hey there,” he said. He turned to Dean first. “How are you, brother? Haven’t seen you around in awhile.”

Dean shrugged, setting his burger down. “Sorry, man. Things have been busy lately.” He didn’t go into detail, for which Castiel was relieved.

Benny nodded. “I get it. Makes sense. What about you, Cas? How’ve you been?”

For a split second, Castiel froze. He silently prayed that Benny hadn’t noticed his hesitation. “Things have been, um, mundane,” he said. “Work has been nice, just repetitive.” He shrugged. He’d rather come across as blatantly uninteresting than sound like an alien freak.

“Nice, nice. Well, I’ll leave y’all to it. Doesn’t mean we’re not gonna have to catch up sometime,” Benny said, grinning.

Dean chuckled, so Castiel followed suit. “Well, food’s as good as ever, man. Nice seeing you,” Dean said.

Benny smirked. “Good to know I still meet the Dean Winchester gold standard. Nice seeing you. Both of you. Enjoy your meals.”

With a small wave, Benny was off. Castiel let out a sigh, which evidently Dean noticed.

“Your taste is still fucked up too, isn’t it?”

Castiel frowned. “Well… yes,” he said, plotting his words carefully. “But I’ve still been eating on occasion. I’ve gotten used to the consistent taste.”

Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment, clearly attempting to compose himself. “Listen,” he said. “Promise me you won’t stop eating, at the very least. Just push through it like you’ve been doing, okay? Don’t wanna have to worry about you more than I already do.”

If Castiel was being honest with himself, Dean’s concern could be heartwarming. On the other hand, that much was mostly overshadowed by how irritating it was. Castiel could take care of himself. Didn’t Dean know that?

He only nodded in response.

Leaving the diner, Castiel trailed just behind his friend. His thoughts were running free again, which wasn’t exactly an oddity anymore. He wanted to be worried about himself, as worried as Dean was, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t outright panicking. Although he’d always been one to follow his gut instinct, this was a particularly extreme example. For all he knew, he could be dying. He could be--

Oh no. Shit.

It didn’t take long for Castiel to recognize the chattering that was leaking into his head. The first voice was more distinct than it had been before. It sounded like a foreign language, although none that Castiel was familiar with. Before he had a proper amount of time to analyze the specific sounds, there was another voice. Another. While we’re at it, why not throw another into the mix?

More, and more, and more.

Castiel hadn’t even realized that hadn’t stopped walking until Dean turned to face him. “Cas? You alright?” He was only faintly capable of deciphering Dean’s words.

Castiel grunted in response, shaking his head. He needed to get away from Dean. He couldn’t let Dean see him like this. His friend was already worried about him so much as it was. Unfortunately, Castiel was not in the proper headspace to make logical decisions.

He sprinted down the nearby alleyway.

“Damn it, Cas!” he could hear Dean calling from behind him.

The world around him was beginning to pass in a blur before collapsing upon itself. It was so loud. So, so loud.

Castiel wasn’t able to entirely process what happened next.

He felt a hand tighten around his arm, stopping him and nearly pulling his arm out of its socket.

In the same moment, Castiel heard Dean’s voice from behind him. “Hey! Fucking let go of him!”

The voices still raged on in his head, drowning out most of what was happening around him.

He heard a growl. The sound was distant, yet somehow he was able to decipher that it was directly in his ear. If it weren’t for the fact that it was spoken in English, Castiel may not have been able to distinguish it between his own internal chaos. “Ya should know what I want, so let’s skip the intro. Wallet, valuables, whatever you’ve got.”

A moment later, before Castiel had an opportunity to bypass the chattering and respond, the grip tore away from his arm. It was accompanied by a loud cracking sound.

The apparent mugger who’d previously held Castiel staggered backward, clutching his cheek. Castiel turned to see Dean, red in the face, hand forming a tight fist. It was then that he noticed the mugger in question was holding a small knife.

Dean seemed to take that detail in stride. “Listen, you don’t fucking touch him, okay?”

The man with the knife snorted. “No, you listen. Hand over what ya got. I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t in a desperate situation, but I’m not letting ya go easy.”

The mugger, Castiel observed, was big. Bigger than Dean, even. If they were to fight, Dean would be at a clear disadvantage. That was before you even took the weapon into play.

Without another word, Dean grabbed a motionless Castiel’s arm. He tugged.

Castiel didn’t move.

“Damn it, Cas, c’mon!” Dean growled.

He wasn’t entirely sure why, but all Castiel could do was shake his head. His head that was still flooded by overwhelming sound.

The mugger chuckled, taking a step closer. “Looks like your boy is scared shitless. Can’t even move. Now hand over what I need, and do it _now_.”

Clearly having given up on his plan to flee, Dean charged.

The rest happened so quickly.

Just as Dean was about to greet the mugger with another blow to the face, the man let out an exasperated sigh. He did this just before jamming the knife into Dean’s left arm.

At the sound of Dean’s scream, Castiel experienced autopilot like he never had before. He jolted forward, pushing past Dean -- who, against all logic, seemed to still be up for a brawl.

“Cas, what are you doing?!” Dean cried, stumbling off to the side and clutching his arm.

The mugger chuckled. “Y’know what, screw your cash. This is fun. Lemme get a shot at this one. What, you’re just gonna walk right up to me? Easy target. You--”

Castiel reached out, head noisy and pounding, and placed a pair of fingers against the attacker’s forehead. Before the large man had a chance to react, he crumpled to the pavement below. His weapon fell from his hand and clattered alongside his unconscious form.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was barely above a whimper.

Turning on his heels to face Dean, Castiel gestured for his friend to remove his hand from the stab wound. Dean hesitated, but obeyed.

His knees were shaking.

Castiel didn’t take even a beat to think. He reached out, gingerly laying his hand over Dean’s injury. Dean winced all the same, hissing beneath his breath. 

By the time Castiel removed his hand a few seconds later, the wound had dissolved and Dean was staring at him in absolute awe and horror.

“Cas…” Dean muttered, gazing down at his fully healed arm. “What the hell?”

The noise faded away.


	4. Chapter 4

By Castiel’s luck, Dean was in too much shock to prod for an answer immediately. An answer that Castiel was wholly unable to provide. Still, the walk back to Dean’s car was so tense that Castiel would much rather have sunk into the sidewalk, never to be seen or heard from again.

Part of him wanted to believe he was dreaming.

He couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around the events that had just unfolded. This was just going to plummet, wasn’t it? The inability to sleep was a nuisance at best. The voices were profoundly irritating. Neither even compared to the chilling reality of what Castiel was apparently capable of.

It had to be a dream. A nightmare.

They arrived at the Impala far quicker than Castiel would have liked. Dean unlocked the car like he always did, and Castiel slid into the passenger seat. Like he always did. Before he even had the chance to fasten his seatbelt, Dean was slipping in beside Castiel.

Part of Castiel expected his friend to start the engine, and they’d drive off, never to speak of that night ever again. It would eventually become a blip in their friendship, or at worst, temporary radio silence between them. Part of him saw Dean’s next move coming.

“Cas,” Dean said, caution seeping from his tone. “I’m gonna ask calmly one time. Just one time. What just happened?”

Castiel took a short time to mull over his response. “I can honestly say that I’m just as confused as you are, if not more so. What happened back there… it felt like an instinct. I don’t know how else to describe it, and I’m sorry. I’ve never done what I just did before, and I was equally unaware that I’m able to do… things. I know this isn’t the answer you’re looking for, but I’m confused. I’m so confused.”

“You’re right. That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.” Dean was staring blankly ahead, and Castiel knew that now wasn’t the time to be hurt that Dean couldn’t look at him.

“Dean, I’m sorry, I wish I could--”

“Bullshit,” Dean growled. “There’s no fucking way in all of hell that you didn’t know what you were doing. So, what are you, Cas? Some kinda superhuman? Genetic experiment? What have you been lying to me about for five fucking years?”

“Nothing!” Castiel snapped. “There is no conspiracy, Dean. If I’m a superhuman, I didn’t know until now. I recognize that what I did back there was far from human. I know that. But arguing will get us nowhere. I’m scared. I don’t know how any of that was even possible. It feels like a delusion, in all honesty. I’m scared. I’m… just scared.”

Dean’s head fell into his hands. Castiel’s frown only deepened, despite the welcome absence of yelling.

“Dean, please. Let’s stay calm and work through this.”

Castiel knew it was a hypocritical thing to say. He was anything but calm, but he didn’t want to drag his friend down with him.

Slowly, Dean began to sit back up. _Finally_ , he turned to look at Castiel.

It wasn’t how Dean typically looked at Castiel. The fondness that Castiel knew he took for granted had been replaced by fear. Dean was scared of him.

“I was stabbed,” Dean said. “And you… healed me, I dunno. I had definitely been fucking sliced open, and you were able to use some kinda magic or whatever to heal me.”

Castiel held back a smile, which he knew would not have helped his cause. “So now we’re considering magic.”

Dean shrugged. “Shit, I don’t know. I’m pretty much willing to consider anything at this point. Hey, uh, I’ve wanted to ask. You didn’t kill that jackass, did you?”

After processing Dean’s words, Castiel’s eyes widened. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I suppose I can’t be sure, though. I hope I didn’t.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I hope you didn’t either. You’d do terrible in prison, man.”

Castiel managed a weak smile. “I can’t say I disagree. But surprisingly that isn’t my biggest concern right now.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said. “Potential murder be damned. And I say that in complete seriousness. We gotta figure out what just happened. Are you sure you have absolutely no idea what happened? Like, what was goin’ through your head when you did all that? Anything?”

“I…” Castiel paused, and sighed. “There was noise. A lot of noise. That’s the reason I ran off, actually. I didn’t want you to see me reacting to something like that.”

Dean cocked a brow. “Noise? What kinda noise? Like, in your head noise?”

Castiel nodded. “I suppose there’s no other explanation. So, yes. It was in my head. But it was loud. Voices, I think. There were too many to decipher what was being said,” he said.

“Did this ever happen to you before? The voices, or whatever?” Dean asked, narrowing his eyes.

Castiel swallowed. “Once. Earlier today.”

“And you didn’t think to say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Castiel said. “You would have had me involuntarily admitted to a psychiatric hospital. You were already worried enough as it was. I would only have added fuel to the fire.”

Dean sighed. “Listen, you’re probably right. But that doesn’t matter anymore, okay? Obviously your problem isn’t psychiatric. Damn it, we need to figure this out. Okay? We’re gonna figure this out.”

Castiel nodded. “We will. I’m sure we will.” It was a lie, but a comforting lie.

“Okay, awesome. Listen, let’s just head home. Don’t know how sitting here’s gonna help us,” Dean said.

“Okay.”

The drive home began blissfully silent, to Castiel’s relief. All the same, he could only predict how blaringly loud Dean’s thoughts were in that moment. Or, maybe he didn’t need to predict.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it. Cas is an alien or something. Damn it. Damn it._

Castiel nearly jumped out of his seat. He’d definitely heard Dean, despite the man’s mouth being clamped shut. Then again, it hadn’t sounded like Dean, exactly. It had been more of a sensation. A sensation that, for whatever reason, screamed ‘Dean.’

Maybe it was another internal voice, like the chattering. Castiel decided to go with that assumption, although that didn’t help to settle the uncomfortable sensation in his gut.

Upon arriving at their apartment complex, Dean rushed out of the car. Castiel fumbled with his seatbelt before following close behind.

In what seemed like an instant, Castiel and Dean were standing just inside the apartment itself. Dean was glancing around, as if searching for who-knows-what.

“Cas,” he said. “I know this sounds like a bullshit amateur idea, but maybe we could… I dunno, google it? Maybe some lunatic out there’s got at least some fragment of an answer. Sounds dumb, I know, but I’m a desperate man. Jesus christ.”

Castiel stepped further into the living room, lips pursed. Thinking. “That sounds like a good place to start, actually. We could collaborate. You grab your laptop, I’ll get mine, and we can start--”

_Buzz._

Castiel frowned, reaching into his pocket.

“Cas? Dude, is this really time to check your phone?”

In lieu of responding, Castiel pulled out his phone. His frown deepened.

“What is it?” Dean asked, making his way closer to Castiel.

“Well, we could start with the sender,” Castiel said, a hint of humour in his voice.

Dean bent over, presumably to get a better look at the screen. He barked a laugh. “Okay, so apparently you just got a text from… sparkly heart emoticon.”

“It’s an emoji, Dean.”

Dean groaned. “Whatever. You can check your spam later, okay? Sorta got more important matters at hand,” he said.

Castiel didn’t respond. Instead his eyes began to skim the text itself. Those same eyes were blown wide before Castiel even had time to fully process what he was reading.

“Cas?” Dean said, standing at his friend’s side. “Everything alright?”

Castiel only shook his head in response.

Dean sighed, attempting to lean over and catch a glimpse of the screen. Castiel was quick to jerk his phone away. He knew he couldn’t let Dean see this. It was probably a sick joke, but considering the vulnerable place they were both in, Castiel wouldn’t be surprised if Dean believed it.

“Okay, I’m startin’ to get the feeling this isn’t spam,” Dean muttered.

Castiel shook his head again, biting his lip.

“Cas, you gotta say--”

“Whoever this is, they’re claiming to know what’s… happening to me,” Castiel said, biting back a snide remark. He was willing to accept superhuman, sure. If that had been the case, he would have jumped into further research. This, on the other hand, was too much. It was impossible.

Castiel finished reading the message, taking a shaky breath.

“You’re kidding. Dude, what does it say? Wait, is it from S.H.I.E.L.D.? Shit, sorry. I shouldn’t be joking. So, what is it, man? C’mon, you gotta--”

“If I read it to you,” Castiel said, speaking slowly. “Do you promise to take it with a grain of salt, for the time being?”

Dean shrugged. “I guess. I’m sorta desperate here, so I can’t promise anything.”

Castiel sighed, fiddling nervously with his phone. “Okay. I suppose I can share it.”

Silence.

“Cas?” Dean said. “Your move.”

“Yes, of course. Okay. I’m just going to read it to you, word for word. Try not to interrupt, if that’s at all possible,” Castiel said, turning back to his phone screen. He didn’t want to see Dean’s face as he read this.

“Awesome, I can do that. Go ahead.”

Castiel nodded. “Okay. It says: _Hey there, Castiel. I’m sending you this now only because my so-called ‘superiors’ said you got yourself into a mess. Apparently it’s time for you to know what the deal is. I’ll be blunt. You’re part of an experimental trial to test the effect of using ‘controversial’ magic to transform a human soul into grace. Led by heaven, but the real work is done by us magical types. Witches, if you will. Lucky for you, you’re part of the half (of experimentees) that gets to know what’s going on. Respond with any further questions. I’m sure you have plenty. Sincerely, YW (Your Witch)_.”

When Castiel glanced up, Dean’s features were stone. “What the hell does--”

“I’m not quite finished,” Castiel murmured.

When he didn’t immediately continue, Dean sighed. “Cas, c’mon.”

Castiel swallowed hard before finishing the message. “ _P.S. Yer an angel, Castiel._ ” He wasn’t sure he was even speaking at an audible volume, and a large part of him hoped he wasn’t. Dean was gullible under stress, but Castiel could pray he wasn’t going to take the message as-is.

“So you’re an angel. Like, a legitimate, fluffy-winged, heavenly-ass angel? Okay. We can work with that,” Dean said, far quicker and more casually than Castiel would have anticipated -- and appreciated.

He could only glare at his friend.

Dean fidgeted a bit before speaking. “Dude, stop looking at me like that. It’s freaking me out.”

“Well, you know what should be freaking you out _more_?” Castiel said, struggling to keep his composure. “The fact the someone is claiming I’m no longer human.”

Dean shrugged. Castiel had never wanted to slap him more than he did in that moment. “Listen, Cas. You did some pretty fuckin’ inhuman shit back here. I know it wasn’t too much, but it was… inhuman. I dunno how else to describe it. Honestly, I never believed in angels or heaven or any of that shit, but I’m at the very least able to accept that something is up with you. I don’t necessarily believe you’re an angel, okay? But like I said, we can work with that. It’s a start. Maybe it’ll take us somewhere. And, hey, Sparkly Heart Emoticon did say you can text back with questions, right? I’d say that’s where we start.”

Castiel sighed. He agreed with Dean, to an extent. “Yes, I suppose that’s where we should begin. What do you think we should ask first?” He pulled his phone back into plain view, at the ready to fire off whatever they deemed fit.

“I mean,” Dean muttered. “How ‘bout we start off with the basics? Like, a confirmation. Ask if you are, without a doubt, an… angel.”

Nodding, Castiel began to punch the letters into his phone.

“What’re you typing?” Dean asked after a small pause.

Castiel bit his lip. “Let’s sit down,” he said.

The two men ended up moving toward the couch, Castiel partially distracted by his phone. Upon sitting down, he sighed.

“Cas?”

Castiel shook his head. “I just asked, essentially, for some kind of proof. I don’t know how we’re going to get that, or how quickly we’re going to get that. I was vague enough, though. Hopefully--”

Dean slammed his hand down on his roommate’s shoulder, causing Castiel to jolt.

“Dean? What’re you--”

“Cas,” Dean said, speaking quietly. “Did you hear that?”

Castiel cocked a brow. “Hear what? I didn’t hear anything. And how is this relevant? We’re sort of in the midst of an emergency.”

Dean huffed. “No, Cas, I’m pretty sure I just heard someone in the kitchen. I think.”

At that, Castiel seemed to spring to life. “If you’re scaring me for no reason, I’m going to kill you. Which evidently won’t be so hard given my current position.”

Dean snorted.

Cautiously, Castiel rose to his feet. “I’m going to be hyper vigilant, okay? I’m in contact with a supposed witch. Who knows what they could have done,” he said.

“Extra paranoid. Got it.”

“You’re the one who pointed out the noise!” Castiel hissed.

“I know. I just joking with the ‘extra paranoid’ thing, jesus. I’m freaked out and naturally I use humour as a--”

“Could you boys stop arguing and give me some attention? My god. What do I have to do, bang some pans together?”

The voice came from behind the couch, resulting in the heads of both Castiel and Dean to whip around in synch. Quickly, Dean stood up beside Castiel. Standing across from them was a blond man. He wore a low cut v-neck beneath a suit jacket, as well as a pleased smirk. Castiel already wanted to punch him.

Castiel glanced over at Dean, finding that his friend’s eyes were blown wide. “You have something to do with this shit? ‘Cause if you’re just some kinda average intruder, we don’t have time for this,” Dean said. His voice was shaky.

The man chuckled. He slipped one hand in his pocket, the other moving to gesture toward Castiel. “Well, no. See, your friend here requested some form of ‘confirmation.’ So heaven received a prayer, and I happened to be available. Unfortunately. Anyway, here I am, telling you that Cassie here is indeed an angel. Now, personally, I find this proto-angel test run to be ridiculous. But alas, it’s a new reality. Are we good?”

There was a moment of silence, during which the man let out a heavy sigh.

“No, we’re not ‘good’,” Castiel spoke eventually. “Who are you?”

The man snorted. “Really? Is that relevant? Nonetheless, my name is Balthazar. Angel. Like, actual angel. Unlike you. Can I leave now?” Balthazar crossed his arms, beginning to tap his foot in an obvious attempt to display his impatience.

Dean shook his head. “Not yet, buddy. How do we know you’re not fucking with us?”

Balthazar cocked a brow. “Well, we could start with the fact that I knew exactly what Castiel said in that text message of his, and I managed to get here in quite a timely fashion. Hopefully that’s blatant enough of a hint for you to wrap your head around,” he said.

Castiel passed another glance over toward his friend. Dean’s face was red, and Castiel was surprised there wasn’t visible steam blowing from his ears. So Castiel decided to intervene, possibly saving them from a physical or intense verbal altercation.

“I believe you,” he said, startled by how calm his own voice sounded. He certainly didn’t feel calm. “Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything, really. Something to make this situation less… confusing.”

Balthazar clicked his tongue, gazing up toward the ceiling for a moment. “Well, you could be a touch more specific. I’d rather you not hold me up. What exactly do you want to know?”

Castiel paused. There was too much to ask -- it was nearly impossible to narrow it down to a question or two. He wanted a handbook. “Why me?” he asked, voice gone weak.

Just like that, Balthazar was laughing. “To begin, there’s a total of thirty of you, so don’t feel special. As far as I’m concerned, the selection was a random process. It’s just a, frankly, ridiculous experiment that my superiors somehow thought would be worthwhile. Hire witches, give them the means and permission to turn souls into grace. Makes perfect, logical sense. Or not, but who cares apparently.”

“So is that all you’re gonna give us?” Dean hissed. “Some half-assed, vague answer?”

Balthazar shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it, I suppose so,” he said. “Can I leave now? I’m fairly sure I have more important matters to attend to. Although, that could be anything, really.”

“Damn it, listen here you--”

“Two more questions,” Castiel cut in, praying that he wouldn’t have to physically restrain his roommate. “Then you can leave. I want to know what I’m capable of. Clearly I have some sort of ability to heal, as well as the capability to abstain from sleep or eating altogether. But what else? Also, I want to know more about the voices I’ve been hearing. How are they related to this all?”

Balthazar let out a heavy breath. Castiel could tell that he was not at all in the mood to explain anything, which was only growing progressively more obvious. “Your ‘abilities’,” Balthazar started, “Include quite a few elements. For example, yes, healing is one thing. There’s also mind reading, flight, the wonderful power to smite certain creatures that may get on your nerves, et cetera. You’ll figure out the rest on your own.”

“Flight?” Castiel muttered. You’d think that given the ‘angel’ situation he would have seen that coming, yet he was fairly sure he hadn’t sprouted wings.

“Teleportation, in a sense. Whatever you want to call it,” Balthazar said. Again, he sighed. “I’d suggest you work on learning to control that. It could come in handy, you know. Get you out of irritating situations. Come to think of it, I don’t entirely know why I’m not flying off right now.”

“Because you’re here on a job, asshole,” Dean said under his breath.

Balthazar smiled, although it wasn’t so much a smile as it was a frustrated grimace. “Okay, well, then just let me get to your boyfriend’s second question and I’ll be on my way. Your hospitality is downright awful, by the way.”

Dean’s cheeks seemed to flush instantly. He swallowed, then nodded.

“So,” Castiel said, struggling not to get sucked into the growing tension. “The voices. What are they?”

“I’m going to assume that by ‘voices’ you’re referring to what is, in this contemporary age, known as ‘angel radio.’ I’m also going to predict that being an honorary angel, you have no idea how to control it. Hm?”

Castiel nodded.

Balthazar smirked. “As would be expected. Not that it’s particularly complicated to manage. Angel radio is what allows me… oh, excuse me, _us_ … to communicate with others within the angelic population from afar. Whether it be in heaven or otherwise. Now, no more questions. You’ll figure the rest out on your own, if not through your witchy conspirator. Well, I think it’s time I make my exit. If you’d just excuse me--”

“So heaven exists?” Castiel asked, speaking lowly.

“I said no more questions.” Castiel, however, continued to glare. Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Fine. Simple answer: Yes. Now, goodbye.”

Both Castiel and Dean jolted backwards at the sudden sound of flapping wings, as Balthazar disappeared from sight.

So teleportation was confirmed to be a thing.

When Castiel turned to look at Dean, he came to discover that his friend was already staring at him, wide-eyed.

Castiel frowned. “Do you think there was something else I should have asked?” he muttered.

“Hell yeah,” Dean replied. “Like, how long are you going to stay this way? That was probably pretty damn important.”

“I actually don’t think I want to know that.”

Dean groaned, putting his face in his hands for a moment and sighing deeply. “What the hell, Cas? Why don’t you want to know?”

Castiel’s frown deepened. “You’re frustrated with me,” he said.

“Sorry, listen, I get that this is gonna be hard on you. Which, is probably a pretty fucking heavy understatement. I shouldn’t prod, I know. But… jesus christ,” Dean said, running a hand through his hair. “How are you so calm? It’s freaking me out.”

Castiel took that moment to sit down, and Dean silently followed suit.

“To begin,” Castiel said, “I don’t want to know how long I’ll be like this because, no matter what, it’ll just give me anxiety. If there’s a set date, I’ll only spend time counting down the days. If I’m stuck like this permanently… I don’t even want to consider that. Still, considering that could be the case, I just don’t want to know how long. I’d rather just accept it as it is. I don’t want to focus on when it’s going to end.”

Dean didn’t respond.

Castiel shifted a bit in his seat, forcing a smile. “So, do you think we should go to bed? We both have work tomorrow.”


	5. Chapter 5

Work hadn’t been the best idea.

Castiel and Dean hadn’t spoken much after Balthazar’s vanishing act. They’d both opted to hide away in their rooms for most of the night, Castiel embarking on yet another Netflix binge. Texting his ‘witch’ had only been a prospect for six seconds or so. He needed something to clear his head. Apparently sitcoms were an effective way of doing just that.

Okay, mostly. Maybe just a bit.

He hoped that Dean was able to sleep. Dean had never been one to sleep more than the bare minimum his body could handle, and Castiel could only hope that the situation wasn’t exacerbating anything.

He chose to venture out of his bedroom only after he knew his roommate had left for work.

Now, attempting to process even the most mundane tasks, Castiel was struggling. It had been significantly easier when he’d had _Fuller House_ to distract him.

Becky was the first co-worker to tap him on the shoulder while he’d been hanging absently around the checkout desk.

“Cas?” she said. “I’m totally sorry for accusing you of being on something last time you were acting weird, but I just wanted to make sure something wasn’t wrong. You seem upset. I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t need to… talk or something.”

Castiel only sighed. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

Becky didn’t move, as if expecting him to say more. After the air had grown progressively more awkward, she nodded and wandered off.

About an hour later, it was Charlie’s turn.

As they did occasionally, Charlie and he shared a break. Castiel wandered into the break room, eyes trained to the ground. As the day progressed, his stress levels were continuing to skyrocket. He hadn’t even bothered to bring a sort of “beard lunch” that day, instead taking to sitting absently across from his redheaded coworker empty-handed.

It only took a moment for Charlie to say something. “Cas,” she muttered, pausing there.

Castiel looked up from the table. “Yes?”

Charlie was frowning, maybe even more so than Castiel himself. She closed her book, a battered copy of _The Hobbit_ , before continuing. “Okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…” Castiel hesitated, before sighing. “It’s incredibly complicated.”

“Well, good thing I’m here to listen.” Charlie leaned forward ever so slightly, now putting on a comforting smile.

Castiel pursed his lips. “I don’t know if here would be the appropriate place to elaborate,” he said. True enough. They weren’t alone in the room that day, and this wasn’t exactly the sort of conversation Castiel would want to be overheard.

Wait, was he genuinely considering dumping this all onto Charlie?

“Okay,” Charlie said with a small nod. “Wanna come over to my place after we get off? We could talk there. If that’s cool with you, I mean.”

Castiel sighed. “Actually,” he said. “I should… I should probably get home. Things are a bit hectic right now.” _Yeah, a bit_.

“I could come over to your place?” When Castiel didn’t respond, Charlie continued. “I mean, it’s just that you’re my friend, and you really don’t look like you’re exactly in tip-top shape. I want to, I dunno, help or something. If I can.”

“That…” Castiel trailed off, utterly unsure what to say anymore. Part of him wanted to tell Charlie, knowing that the extra support could be beneficial. Another part of him, however, was begging him to let it be. This kind of information would only stress out his friend, as he was sure it was already doing to Dean. How many people did he need to drag into this mess? It’s not as if Charlie would believe him, anyway.

Still.

Castiel huffed, turning his gaze downward once again. “Yes, I suppose you can come over,” he said quietly. “But, please, whatever I tell you later on… don’t try to let it affect you personally. I know that you will probably only worry over this if I don’t say anything at all. Which, is why I know I should tell you. To avoid… confusion. And maybe I’m being incredibly selfish, I don’t know.” He looked up. “Are you sure you want to be part of this?”

At this point, Charlie was left looking downright startled. “Um, yeah? Is it really that bad?” she asked in an undertone.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Castiel said. “I have very little idea as to what’s going on right

now. So I suppose some kind of support would be nice.”

“Isn’t Dean supporting you? Like, with whatever’s going on?”

Castiel managed a small smile. “Yes, very much so. Maybe a bit too aggressively, if I’m being honest. He sees it as just as much his problem as it is mine.”

Charlie chuckled. “Yeah, sounds like Dean. Oh, so you get off at six, right?”

Castiel nodded.

“Cool. So I probably won’t be done until eight, but I’ll swing by your place afterwards. Okay?” Charlie confirmed.

“Yes. That sounds like a plan. Okay.”

So, by six-thirty, Castiel was panicking. That couldn’t be purely attributed to his own revelations.

“You said you’d tell her _what_?” Dean was wide-eyed, standing above Castiel as he sat on the couch.

Castiel let out a defeated sigh. “Dean,” he said. “It was a rash decision, okay? Granted, it didn’t even seem like a particularly good idea in the moment. But I can’t just tell her not to come.”

Dean huffed, crossing his arms. “And why not? Just, I dunno, text Charlie or something. Tell her not to show up.”

“It’s not that simple,” Castiel countered. “I made very clear to her that something was severely wrong. If I don’t offer some kind of explanation, I’ll only worry her beyond belief.”

“Well, then lie to her.”

Castiel paused, taking a moment to think. That was actually a good idea. “I suppose… I could do that. But what should I tell her?”

Dean took a seat on the couch beside the other man. “Honestly? Tell her something happened in your family. But, listen, Cas. You can’t just go tellin’ everyone about what’s going on. She’s a friend. I get it. It’s just that we can’t go hauling people into this, especially when they can get away with having nothing to do with it,” he said.

“Yes, you’re right,” Castiel said. “I’ll tell her it was a family emergency.”

“Maybe tell her something happened to Jimmy. I know lying doesn’t feel great, and lying about your brother might feel especially shitty, but it’s really the only option I’m seeing here.”

Castiel nodded. “Again, you’re right. I’ll tell her Jimmy was in an accident. A car accident? Is that believable, or too generic? I don’t even know. I’ll tell her he was severely injured in a car accident,” he said.

Dean shrugged. “Sounds good enough to me. Think we should at least flesh out the details, though?”

They spent the next hour doing just that. Castiel thought it important to emphasize that Jimmy had a good prognosis, despite the severity of the fabricated accident. Dean agreed, seeing as Castiel would need to let the issue drop eventually.

At around eight forty-five, there was a knock at the door. Castiel sat alone in the living room now, brooding silently, still in his work clothes. How did he somehow manage to make what was already a disaster even worse?

Sighing, he rose to answer the door. He needed to make this as brief as possible, not leaving room for unanswerable questions. Although he and Dean had managed to create a particularly believable story, there were still some cracks that needed filling.

“Hey, Cas,” Charlie said after Castiel had swung the door open. She was dressed casually, in flannel and jeans. “Can I come in?”

Castiel nodded, stepping out of the way. “Of course,” he said. “Let’s sit down in the living room.”

They soon found themselves sitting side by side on the couch, the same couch Castiel and Dean had been seated at not long before. Planning out a fake accident. To tell Charlie.

Who was now sitting right there.

“So,” Charlie was the first to speak. “Think you’re able to talk about what’s up?”

In lieu of talking, Castiel let out a cough. Which, was probably not a good start. “Um, yes. I can talk.” He froze up there. Also not a good start.

Charlie cocked a brow. “So, what is it?”

“Jimmy,” Castiel managed to say. Couldn’t he just speak? “He was in, um, an accident. Car accident. To begin, he has a good prognosis, I’m just worried because, um… it was so sudden?” Of course that would come out sounding more like a question than anything. 

Charlie was eying him strangely.

So, Castiel continued. “The accident, uh, wasn’t his fault. At least, from what I’ve heard. And, I mean, I’ve heard a lot, because I’m his brother, and…”

Charlie’s eyes had slowly gone wide.

“What?” Castiel managed to croak.

“Oh my god,” Charlie said. “You’re lying to me.”

Castiel’s mouth fell open, although no words escaped. How had he managed to screw this up so quickly?

Charlie’s frown deepened. “Okay, so definitely lying. Whatever’s actually going on is really, _really_ bad, isn’t it?”

Words obviously lost, Castiel only nodded.

“If you really don’t think you’re able,” Charlie said. “You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I didn’t want to, like, pressure you or anything. We can talk about something else to take your mind off of it if you--”

She was interrupted by the sound of flapping wings. Castiel felt his heart plummet in an instant. Really, _now_?

Charlie jumped, before turning alongside Castiel towards the front of the room. Standing just in front of the TV was a man, and if Castiel were to take an educated guess, that man was probably less man and more angel.

“Woah, who are you and where did you come from?” Charlie turned to Castiel. “Do you know who he is?”

Castiel only sighed.

The angel, who was of reasonably short stature, narrowed his eyes. “Wait, this isn’t your roommate. Dean? Shit. I should probably come back another time, sorry for the fuck up, I’ll just be--”

“No!” Castiel blurted. He could feel Charlie’s stare boring into him. “You’re already here, just get on with it, please.”

“Okay, just so you know, I have never felt so confused,” Charlie cut in.

Castiel sighed. “This has to do with the _problem_ I was just attempting to avoid talking to you about.”

The man chuckled. “Problem? Gee, Cassie, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you weren’t happy to see me.”

“Can you stop speaking as if we’ve even met, please?” Castiel said, voice hoarse. God, he felt so weak. “You’ve already just potentially ruined another person’s sanity, which is exactly what I was trying to prevent.”

“Wait, so you two _don’t_ know each other? Okay, can someone just answer me? What’s going on?” Charlie’s gaze was now shifting back and forth between Castiel and the other angel.

When Castiel didn’t answer fast enough, the new angel took the initiative. “Name’s Gabriel. So, Cassie, you wanna explain or should I?”

“Explain _what_?” By this point, Charlie looked like she was near exploding.

“Well, you see,” Gabriel began. Castiel hung his head in his hands. “Since I guess the secret’s out, I may as well spill the rest. Cas here is part of some freako experiment testing the result of turning a human soul into grace. I know, wild, right? Anyway, since I’m technically a higher-up, I was just swinging by to check up on him.”

Charlie sat in silence for a moment, during which Castiel wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor. “Okay, just for the record,” she began eventually. “I have no idea what that means. Like, at all. Am I supposed to know what that means?”

Castiel sighed. “No,” he said. “I didn’t know what it meant, either. And I don’t know if it would be in your best interest to go into detail.”

Gabriel clicked his tongue. “I mean, she’s already here. Not that I’m usually a fan of disclosing all this crap to anyone willing to listen, but it seems appropriate.”

“It is,” Charlie said, a stern tone overtaking her voice. “I want to know what’s going on.”

The room grew silent.

“Cassie,” Gabriel said. “Your move.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Charlie. I shouldn’t have brought you into this. Before I begin, I want you to know that what I’m about to say is the absolute truth. It may seem unbelievable, but it’s true. Unfortunately.”

He waited for Charlie to nod, which she did, before continuing.

“Okay,” Castiel said. He let out a heavy breath. “This experiment… they turned me into an, um, angel. An angel.”

For a moment, Charlie only blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Here’s the deal,” Gabriel said, taking over. “Cas is, in fact, an angel. Well, at least, he has grace. Which I guess would make him an angel. You know, with all the abilities that come alongside the gig.”

“But… how…” Again, Charlie was looking back and forth, between the two angels. “You’re not lying to me? Also… abilities?” She spoke quickly, a slight quiver in her voice.

Again, Castiel sighed. Great. He was probably about to give his friend a heart attack. “No, we’re not lying. This would explain the insomnia I mentioned to you a couple of weeks ago. I don’t require sleep. I can also do… things, but that’s not of import,” he said.

Gabriel hummed. “Well, that was actually pretty awkward. And it looks like my job is done. I should be going now. Oh, good to know you’re doing okay, Cas. Bye!”

With that, Gabriel vanished from sight. Charlie let out a yelp as he disappeared from in front of her.

“Holy shit, okay, so he definitely just teleported or something,” she said.

“Same as his entrance, yes,” Castiel said. “Please, just forget everything you’ve heard today. Please. I’m sorry for bringing you here in the first place. It was incredibly selfish of me.”

Charlie hesitated. “So I still don’t exactly understand what this ‘angel’ thing means.”

Castiel gave a weak chuckle. “Honestly? Neither do I. Hardly. Do you really believe all of this?”

“I mean, I guess,” Charlie muttered. “You wouldn’t lie to me, and I just watched a guy teleport, so…” She shrugged.

Castiel nodded. “Again, just act as if none of this happened. That would probably be in your best interest.”

Charlie left about twenty minutes later, after Castiel had convinced her that he was okay, with only mild success. If he was sure of anything at that point, it easily would have been:

Angels are dicks. Dicks with terrible timing.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr ayy](http://geekcas.tumblr.com)


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